May 27, 2013

I was used to this, or at least I’d lied to myself long enough that I thought I was over the years and years of missed holidays and special occasions. Although most of my time was spent working in the clinic, I often covered shifts at the hospital for regular ER staff neurologists so they could spend time with their families on those “family” days. They had kids. I didn’t. They had spouses. I didn’t.

I just had a boyfriend. A partner. A lover. All paltry words that were such weak terms for what Thomas and I were to each other, but we’d consciously chosen to not use the word husband until we were legally married. In 2008, Thomas and I had made tentative plans to get married the following summer, but neither of us had actually proposed or done any of those rituals. When Prop 8 passed, going into effect the day after Election Day, our marriage plans were called off before they’d even had a chance to get off the ground. We wanted a marriage and made the decision to wait until Prop 8 had either been overturned or deemed unconstitutional, more out of protest than anything. Now we were just waiting for the Supreme Court to make up its mind. Thomas and I wanted to be married, but we wanted to be married in California since that’s where we had lived for well over a decade.

Thomas was my entire life, even after twenty-three years. Twenty-two if you went by his accounting, but I’d always been better at math. He playfully argued with me whenever I told people how long we’d been together. Even if we weren’t technically together when he went on tour with his band during the summer of 1990, I was at college in Seattle thinking of little else but him and classes. It was twenty-three years, dammit. Twenty-three pretty wonderful years.

Youth was no longer on our side after that long. My once-blond hair was now speckled with gray, and it was cropped so short that all the curl was long gone, unceremoniously swept away by some barber’s broom and dumped in a trash bin. Thomas was still as gorgeous as ever with his dark hair and rich green eyes that danced when he smiled. His skin was beautifully pale, but that gorgeous chest with the rosy-pink nipples that had turned me into an imbecile so many years ago was not quite as toned. And the slight roundedness added to his stomach was something I never thought I’d crave. I did though. I loved rubbing my cool palms over his warm belly—now covered in a sparse, downy blanket of dark hair—as I pulled him close to me in bed each night.

Except for this night. It was our twenty-third anniversary, and I was stuck covering Dr. Trillio’s emergency room shift so he could attend his daughter’s birthday party and help his wife wrangle all the little girls who were sleeping over. I went to the break room and poured myself a cup of coffee, taking a quick sip and working hard to stop myself from feeling resentful over something I willingly volunteered for.

Thomas was at home now, but he’d had a concert earlier that night. That’s why I’d volunteered. He’d probably gotten home sore and tired because the pieces the San Francisco Symphony was currently performing had him running around the percussion section like a madman. Kid’s half his age would’ve been exhausted by those antics, but he reveled in the challenge and wowed the audiences.

“Simon, I’m glad I found you.” It was Dr. Blankenship, the head of the neurology department, and he was dressed in scrubs. “I think I should relieve you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“A little birdy told me it was your anniversary tonight.”

Ethel, the ER nurse who never seemed to forget a birthday, walked past the door and winked. I couldn’t help the smile that parted my lips as I looked back toward Dr. Blankenship.

“It is. Thank you.”

“Go home to your boyfriend.”

“I owe you one,” I said as I shook my boss’s hand and then forced myself to not sprint for the door. “Thanks, so much.”

I got home as fast as I could and slipped up the stairs toward the bedroom. Thomas was fast asleep, nude, of course. It was nearly one in the morning. The little head tilt I felt automatically happen was pathetic, but Thomas was always so beautiful when he slept that I couldn’t help it. I wanted to look at him. I was still content to just stare at this man after all our years together. They hadn’t all been good years—there were a few that had been complete shit—but we’d managed to stay together despite all that. We somehow came out squeaky clean on the other side. Squeaky clean and together.

Clothes effortlessly fell away as I closed in on the bed. I was glad because I’d been known to get tripped up on my underwear or to struggle to get out of a too-tight shirt because of my bum shoulder, especially when I was as anxious to be next to my naked man as I was then. None of that happened tonight, though. Instead, I was slipping between the cool sheets and feeling the warm skin of Thomas against my chest.

He rolled over and lazily opened his eyes, blinking haphazardly and then looking toward the blue haze of the alarm clock. “You’re home early,” he said as he turned back my way with a dozy smile.

“Blankenship relieved me so I could come home to be with you.”

“Mmm,” Thomas said as he turned to face me. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Not now. Kiss me first.”

I didn’t really need to be asked twice. Kissing was still a favored activity, even if we no longer took the time to truly savor the moments like we should. Thomas’s lips were so soft as he opened to me, and he easily let me lick into his mouth so I could feel the texture of his mouth and taste his tongue: smooth and toothpaste-sweet. I loved that. No one felt quite like Thomas did, even if I went far back into my history.

Sighing, I tried to blow off the truth of his words, and I pulled my hips back to disguise my rapidly hardening cock. I really couldn’t hide anything from him after all these years. Thomas knew all my tricks. I wanted Thomas no matter what. I wanted to feel that familiar heat and tension surrounding my dick and—more importantly—I wanted to luxuriate in him.

“I’m fucking horny for you,” I finally admitted willingly with that little modifier added. A few more endearments started slipping past my lips, moving us away from the routine normalcy we now typically had in bed to something a little more intimate and romantic. “You make me feel like everything is right. I don’t care if we started off crazy ages ago and ended up boring as dirt with a hell of a lot of angst in between. I love you just the same. Fuck! I love you more for that; you know?”

I felt slick, warm lube around my cock, and Thomas’s strong hands guiding me right where I wanted to be. I slid in all warm, happy, and content as Thomas spread his legs wider for me.

“Love you more than I can say,” Thomas managed to slur out as I filled him. “More…. More…. Right there.”

I was tapping Thomas in just the right place to send him spiraling out of control in the hopes of hitting heaven before he came back down to land on earth. If only. If only I could make Thomas feel like he’d touched anything close to godlike while we fucked, I would be happy.

“I love you like there’s no tomorrow, do you know that?” I whispered right next to the soft skin of Thomas’s ear. What was with me today?

“You’ve loved me from the start, you obvious fuck. And I love you. Now stop talking and fuck my ass like you mean it.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, and then focused my attention to my hips moving them in the slow, deep rhythm Thomas loved. I didn’t know why I was being such a sap. The whole anniversary thing did that, I guess. Anniversaries were when you made small things bigger than life and could be so syrupy sweet that your teeth ached, right?

Thomas stilled my hips and looked me in the eye. “Stop trying to turn this into an anniversary sex moment and just be here with me, okay? This doesn’t need to be some big grand gesture. Not any more. You’ve already got me, and I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you already. And besides, I’ve never been one that needed to be romanced. You know that.”

I gave his smiling mouth a little peck and then nodded. “Okay, babe. Okay,” I said and then allowed my body to take what it wanted. That’s what Thomas wanted from the start, for me to just go on raw, physical need. That was evident from the way he was responding to me. Fingers gripped painfully on my ass as he pulled me deeper, and when he realized what he was doing, his hands slid to my head where, in the past, he would’ve grabbed onto curls. Now he gripped as much of the short hair as he could and tugged. I wanted to keep kissing him, but I had to pull away so I wasn’t breathing right at him. I buried my face in his neck instead and smelled that perfect scent of Thomas.

“I’m close,” Thomas said as his hand slid between their bodies, and then he started jacking himself. I looked down and watched as he tugged himself closer and closer. Before the first milky drop left the tip, I felt his ass tighten around my cock, so I knew not to look away. I loved watching him come. I loved to watch him let go and give all of himself away to me.

My orgasm was close, so I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on nothing but the feel of Thomas surrounding me. These sappy thoughts just wouldn’t leave me alone though.

I came with “I love you” on my lips. It wasn’t unusual, so Thomas didn’t tease me about it. He did tease me when I came back into the room with a towel to clean him up so he could go right back to sleep rather than getting in the shower.

“Pretty good for an old man,” Thomas said.

“You’re one to talk.”

“It’s been a good twenty-two years, hasn’t it?”

“Twenty-three”

“Twenty-two.”

I dropped the towel in the laundry basket then climbed in beside him. I couldn’t help the “twenty-three” that slipped out.

Thomas sat up and crossed his legs, smiling at me with brightness in his eyes. He looked determined. I leaned up on an elbow to get closer to him in the hopes that he’d lean down and kiss me again.

“Simon, how about we stop fighting about how long we’ve been together and start counting all over again?”

I pulled a face and asked, “What? What do you mean?”

“Will you marry me?”

I stared at him in disbelief. We had a plan; this wasn’t it. We’d talked about the plan for years, so this was highly unusual for Thomas to bring up. He could read the naked confusion on my face, and he palmed my neck to settle me.

“We’re Washington boys. Washington passed it. Let’s go home and get married in Port Townsend in a quaint little B&B or maybe even on the rocky beach at the Sound. Please, Simon. Please marry me and make me your husband?”

I sat up and pulled him to my chest. “Of course. Yes, I’ll marry you. You know that. I want you to be my husband so badly.”

“Me too.”

Then Thomas pulled out a little box from under his pillow and opened it to reveal a plain, silver ring, slipping it on my finger. Apparently this had been planned, and it probably would’ve been a hell of a lot more romantic if my hard on hadn’t started poking him the second I’d gotten into bed. I chuckled.

“What?”

“I think I sorta spoiled your proposal, didn’t I?”

Thomas shook his head. “Nah. You said yes. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.”

“Now we get to counting all over again, fiancé.”

#

Fiancé. That was a word that felt great in my mouth as I made my announcement at work on Monday. I knew husband would feel even better.